The backdrop was phosphorescent,
as though lights had been expelling
their best colors; orchid, lemon, deep orange.
I had been here so many times before,
but fervency was refreshing. My skin,
looking blanched in the unnatural light,
was being saturated in modulation.
The moments of static, were perpetual.
Through each movement, each measure,
we were tarnished further; blurred more
and more together, until the room became
only backdrop and no one was a player; no
one was a listener. We were all color.
Our impurities became our emblems.